Never Tear Us Apart series
by GylzGirl
Summary: Giles finds himself in a precarious situation. Can his Slayer help him? [somewhat Giles/Buffy]
1. Verge

Verge  
(Never Tear Us Apart series #1)  
by GylzGirl  
  
  
  
Disc: Characters owned by Joss, WB, Mutant Enemy (Grr, Argh), Kuzui, Fox, etc. Not I. Excerpts taken directly from WTTH, owned by same said, not me people. I call dibs on the actual story.  
Spoilers: Thru Helpless  
Rating: Ooh, um PG I'd say  
Type: Angst? You're soaking in it! (aka, "Aww, I need a hug.")  
Author's Note: Thanks to WorstWitch, Kazza, and Meawan for beta help and pointers.  
Written: 1999  
  
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Giles leaned forward on his sofa and poured himself a glass from the Scotch bottle sitting on his coffee table. He stared into the glass blankly, looking past it and over the last few hours, months, years and trying not to lose control, again. A Watcher was supposed to train his Slayer, support her, observe her. He wasn't to protect. He wasn't to interfere. He wasn't to become attached. Most certainly, he wasn't supposed to love her.  
  
Giles did love Buffy though. He tried to pinpoint when it had happened. When he'd gone so terribly wrong. He smiled. Only the decrepit, pretentious Council could classify love as being wrong.  
  
He'd come to Sunnydale feeling so out of place, waiting eagerly for his Slayer, determined not to let his excited anticipation endear him to his charge. It wouldn't be appropriate. "Is anybody here?" The first words he'd heard out of her mouth. Giles had been engrossed in cataloging another shipment of his demonology texts in the cage when he'd heard her voice. He was supposed to have been given notice from the Council as soon as she'd enrolled at the school. They had, of course, dropped the ball on that one, as they always seemed to manage where Buffy was concerned.   
  
Even not expecting her for a few days yet, he knew she was his Slayer the second he'd heard her. He'd touched her shoulder lightly. Giles had trained most of his life for this moment. It was almost dream-like reaching for her. She'd spun to face him.   
  
She was so young. He'd prepared himself for that, or at least he thought he had. "Anybody's here." She smiled fleetingly. It was infectious, full of light and the brightness of day. She was so unlike what he'd imagined.  
  
"Can I help you?" Would she know him as instantly as he'd known her?  
  
"I was looking for some...well...books. I'm new." Was it possible she didn't know? Could he have been wrong?  
  
"Miss Summers?" He asked to confirm and to give him a focus to stop his completely un-Watcherlike, gentle grin.   
  
"Good call." She seemed perplexed, surprised. "Guess I'm the only new kid huh?"  
  
"I'm Mr. Giles." Yes, your Watcher. Do you know me yet? "The librarian." Don't scare her off Rupert. "I was told you were coming." Look we might as well get this over with.  
  
"Great. So um, I'm gonna need Perspectives on Twentieth Century..."  
  
"I know what you're after." He could feel his giddy smile as his excitement got the better of him after all. He sat the ancient "Vampyr" text on the counter with an ominous thud.  
  
She looked up at him with fear, vulnerability. "That's not what I'm looking for."   
  
How was this girl possibly a warrior, a Slayer, when she was afraid of a simple book? "Are you sure?"  
  
"I'm way sure."  
  
"My mistake." It was his turn to be confused. Had he gotten the name wrong? Was the Council mistaken thinking this girl was the Chosen One? Was he? "So what is it you sa..." He'd let her words deny his instincts, let her out of his sight for just a second, and she was gone.  
  
As he watched her disappear out the door, the sound of her boots echoing down the hall, Giles felt...incredibly rejected. It was worse than anything he'd ever known. Worse than when Michelle Agnew, his senior school crush, had turned him down because she didn't date "layabouts in leather jackets." Worse than what he'd imagined his father feeling when he'd dropped out of Oxford. Worse than how he felt when he returned to his family, guilt-ridden already from the Eyghon affair, and his father refused to even see him for a month and a half. This was almost shattering. He didn't know who he was without his destiny. He'd retreated to the comforting safety of his books, to regroup, to plan a strategy. 'She has to come back sometime,' Giles had decided, 'and I will be ready.'  
  
He wasn't ready for her to reappear scarcely two hours later. Her stride was confident and assured, every bit the Slayer, as she questioned him about a murdered boy found in the locker room; murdered by vampires. He'd wondered what else she'd expected. The more she talked, the more Giles could see her as just another teenage girl. But she wasn't, she was the Slayer. He fell back on the tried and true weapon of the Watcher, lecture. She'd seemed to respond to that, but skillfully tried to steer him off the topic of demonic activity. He caught it and attempted to bring her back to the subject at hand. "A-a Slayer slays, a Watcher..."  
  
"Watches?"   
  
"Yes. No!" As his frustration grew, his stammer increased. "He-he trains her, he-he-he prepares her..."   
  
"Prepares me for what? For getting kicked out of school? For losing all of my friends? For having to spend all of my time fighting for my life and never getting to tell anyone because I might endanger them? Go ahead! Prepare me."   
  
Those last two words stole Giles' entire verbal arsenal away. The truth was, she was just a teenage girl. She just happened to also be the Slayer. She'd seen more than any 16-year-old should have had to, more than he had his whole life, and he'd seen a lot. He knew in that moment he was on his own. Rulebooks and the like were not going to help him with this girl. He was going to have to improvise.   
  
The trouble with the improvisation was, once he had started, he'd never stopped. Giles smiled at that memory. Maybe that was where he had gone wrong. True, he didn't love Buffy yet then, but he felt for her. He wanted to help her, wanted to protect her. He'd already broken several Watcher tenets by feeling that much. So what did it matter if he went further?   
  
If the Council had known he'd tried to give his life for hers the night of the Spring Fling, he'd have been removed from duty long ago. He loved her by then. When Giles recognized that, it scared him. He'd snapped back into Watcher mode. 'That's it Buffy. Go out and meet your destiny. Be a good girl, go and die.'  
  
Buffy had stood before him, stripped emotionally naked, crying, raging. She looked to him to find some way, *any* way to save her. He found the way. He'd loaded a weapon bag almost too heavy to carry and readied himself to face the Master in Buffy's place. She caught him, tried to talk him out of it. He'd seen something in her eyes then, pride and if he'd dared to believe it, love. However Giles hadn't had long to ponder it at the time. Buffy delivered a blinding cross to his chin, and he was out cold, dreaming of indecorous scenarios featuring Jenny Calendar.   
  
Ah Jenny. His poor lovely Jenny. Fate was, to be sure, a Bitch Goddess of the first magnitude. Fate had seen fit to deny those who would predict her quirky nature that night and give his Slayer back to him. Then it gave him Jenny. That Giles had her to take his mind into brighter thoughts than vampires and the Hellmouth was miracle enough. That she returned his affections was beyond the level of hope he thought he possessed. Everything was going perfect. No fights, well not any that didn't end up in fervent kisses to make up, and then, Eyghon.  
  
How Giles had detested himself. She wouldn't even look at him. It took weeks, and a very painful arrow wound to the back, to get her into his arms again. And he swore he'd never let her go. He supposed he'd kept that promise after all. It had been a year since he found her and still her blank eyes staring out in his candlelit room, haunted him.  
  
Looking back, he could analyze it logically. He'd felt betrayed. He could have forgiven that he supposed. However, her actions, or rather her inaction, had helped to hurt his Slayer. That he could not forgive. Even knowing it cost them being together the last few weeks of her life, even after she was interred in the earth of Sunnydale Cemetery, he had not forgiven her. It took him betraying his Slayer himself before he could let that last resentment go.   
  
The Test. Yes. The madness that was the Slayer Test was definitely a mistake. Giles had tried to reason himself into it. It was tradition, protocol. It hadn't worked. It was Ripper who had talked him into it. It was a little well-deserved payback, sanctioned no less. Buffy's lover had killed Jenny and tortured him for hours. He'd been through hell for that girl. How did she show him her trust? She ran away for three months, not letting Giles even know if she was alive or dead. When she came back, he tried to forgive. Before he had the chance, he found that she'd been hiding Angel's resurrection from him as well. That had almost broken him. What exactly did he have to do to have her choose him over Angel, just once?  
  
"Go on Giles," Ripper taunted him, "stick that needle in her arm. Make her as weak as she's made you. Crying every night into your pillows like a child. You've let this girl wrap you around her finger, and she's made a fool out of you in return. Get some of your own back." As happened every time he let Ripper talk him into something, he regretted it.  
  
Giles had made the decision to void the test before it was too late. He'd confessed, his own emotions getting the better of him. She stood before him, crying, raging, and suddenly he was two years in the past telling Buffy of the Codex's prediction that she was to die. Except this time, it wasn't the Master. This time Giles himself was the big bad menace in the dark, and he hated himself for that.   
  
Giles had gone after her, to protect her, give his life for her, anything she'd allow him to do. That act of compassion had cost him his position as her Watcher. Too late, he was bound to this girl by bonds stronger than any label could attest to. If Buffy would still have him. He tended to her wound, tears welling up in her eyes, pain, so much pain. Giles wanted to hold her so much. No. He had done enough. She had tentatively put her hands on his shoulders and when he didn't back away, she embraced him. He wanted to cry, but that was a selfishness he didn't deserve. He hugged her back, tightly. It was for her. Only for her, just as everything was.   
  
The new Watcher would be arriving soon. It was okay. Buffy would still listen to him. Wouldn't she? He could handle this. His vision returned to the glass in his hand. Yes. When things got truly bleak, wasn't this always how he handled things.   
  
Ripper scoffed at him. "Look at you Mate. Just look at this. You hate the booze. You hate me. But...when push comes to shove you'd be unable to cope without either of us wouldn't you?"  
  
"THAT'S NOT TRUE!" Giles hurled the glass at his fireplace with all the force he could muster. It exploded with the impact, the liquid running down the brick.  
  
"Ooh, isn't it? Buffy barely listened to a word you said when you were her Watcher. Now you're just some stuffy English prat who she can't even scrub away."  
  
"If she wanted me to go, sh-she'd tell me to!" He yelled into the empty room.  
  
"Would she? Would she risk it? Maybe she's afraid of upsetting you. You do handle crisis so well. Maybe she doesn't want to anger you. After all, last time she did, you stuck a needle in her, didn't ya?"   
  
"No!" Giles' hands were over his ears.  
  
"She's afraid of you Mate."  
  
"NO!" He grabbed the neck of the Scotch bottle and flung it, shattering against the kitchen counter. "Shut the hell up! You don't know what you're talking about!" Ripper laughed maniacally in the back of his mind. "Shut-up!" Giles went to his liquor cabinet and pulled the doors open wide. "I! Don't! Need! This!" Each word punctuated by him throwing another bottle against the wall, glass and alcohol spraying the room.  
  
Soon the cabinet was empty, but the laughter continued. He stumbled to the mirror on the wall, looking his reflection in the eye. "And I don't need you! You bastard." He punched the glass. It burst into shards, cutting crimson crisscrosses into his fist. Giles pulled open the shirt he wore, buttons spraying to the floor to mingle with the glass. He tugged the fabric down off his arms and bent to retrieve a jagged piece of the glass. He curled his bicep, looking with disgust at the black swirled brand on the cream colored skin there. "No more of you." He sliced the edge of the mirror piece across the Mark of Eyghon over and over again until his blood obscured the tattoo completely. The pain brought him to his knees. Giles winced as his legs landed in yet more glass, blood now pooling on his floor. He dropped the shard which had also cut into the palm and fingers of the assaulting hand.  
  
Giles sat staring at his hands, tears of fear and pain on his face. He was bleeding. He hurt all over. It was fairly clear he had done it to himself. And he couldn't remember doing it. He couldn't even remember why. Some inner sense of self-preservation stood him on shaky legs and marched him out his front door.  
  
He drove slowly, turns becoming difficult as the wheel became slick with his blood. Giles staggered into the emergency room. The young blonde nurse looked up from behind the counter and her eyes went wide. "My God, Mr. Giles! What's happened to you now?!" She raced around the corner with a wheelchair, barely in time as he collapsed into it.  
  
His head lulled back as he fought against unconsciousness from the blood loss. His hand roved up the arm of the nurse. "Buffy? Buffy...I'm so sorry!" He burst into tears, sobbing pitifully, and then he passed out.  
  
He slipped in and out of consciousness for hours. When Giles finally awoke with a clear head, it was in a hospital room lit only by a dim florescent light. A figure sat silhouetted in an uncomfortable looking chair, just at his side. He blinked to clear his vision and found Buffy watching him. "Giles?" He could tell by her voice that she had been crying.  
  
"Buffy, I-I'm sorry I worried you. I w-was moving a m-mirror and it slipped. Made a terrible mess of myself I'm afraid."  
  
"Yes, that's what the nurse told me. But..."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I...I saw the apartment."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"I...don't know." His voice was quiet and afraid. "I don't remember."  
  
"Were you drinking?"  
  
He could lie here. Make it easier on himself. Would she even believe the truth? "No. I never made it that far."  
  
"Oh. Then why?"  
  
"I DON'T KNOW!!! I already told you!" He could feel the tears coming. "Dammit! Dammit!" He rolled to his side, putting his back to her, and wept copiously.  
  
Buffy stood, crying now herself and reached a trembling hand for his shoulder. When he didn't pull away at her touch, she moved her arms around him and hugged as hard as she could. It was almost as if she was trying to pull his pain inside and take it onto herself. Giles leaned back into her. She placed her tear-dampened cheek against atop his own and made soothing sounds, like a mother hushing her baby, until he quieted down some. "I love you Giles," she whispered to him. "Whatever this is, I'll help you get through it. I promise." He cried himself to sleep as Buffy rocked him in her arms. 


	2. She Alone

She Alone  
(Never Tear Us Apart series #2)  
by GylzGirl  
  
  
Disc: Buffy, Giles, Sunnydale, the rest of the Scoobies and certain quoted bits from episodes belong to Joss, WB, Mutant Enemy (Grr, Argh), Kuzui and Fox. Regrettably, not to me (Wah!).  
Rating: PG  
Type: Angst? You're soaking in it! (aka "Aww, I need a hug.")  
Author's Note: This story is a sequel to my story Verge  
Written: 1999  
  
  
  
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"In every generation there is a Chosen One. She alone will face the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer." Buffy ran her hand over the embossed passage on the inside of Giles' Watcher journal. She tried to hear his voice reciting it in her head, but only two words came. "She alone." Over and over again. "She. Alone."  
  
"Dammit!" She threw the book across the room and it landed with a clink atop yet another pile of broken glass in Giles' apartment. She angrily wiped a tear away with the back of her hand, refusing to cry about this anymore. Tears weren't helping her, and they weren't helping Giles. And that was what she was supposed to be doing here, helping Giles, for once.  
  
He was coming home today. He had narrowly avoided being written up as a suicide attempt and kept for psychiatric evaluation. Giles assured the hospital that he had simply had too much to drink and was trying to move a mirror. It had slipped and broken and in his drunken state, Giles had fallen in the glass, cutting himself something dreadful in his uncoordinated attempts to get up.  
  
Once Giles had also assured Buffy that he really wasn't trying to kill himself, she had backed him up saying he didn't usually drink, couldn't really hold his liquor. That it was simply the anniversary of his girlfriend's death that had driven him to the bottle that night. She had just lost him as her Watcher. She didn't need the school firing him as librarian too.  
  
Buffy carefully moved the book off of the glass and onto his coffee table. She grabbed her handbroom and tray and swept up the shards, depositing them into the bag, the whole time sniffing back fresh tears, the whole time hearing "She. Alone." whispered in her head.  
  
Once all the glass was cleared away, and the sticky patches of alcohol mopped up, you could barely tell what had happened here. The only indications left: a few nicks and scratches on the walls and cabinets from where the bottles had struck, the mirrorless frame hanging on the wall, and the oppressive desperation that had led Giles to his actions hanging in the air.   
  
The Slayer sat once again on Giles' sofa and reached for the book. His book, but her book too, in a way. She opened the cover and began to read the first entry. "Slayer is willful and insolent. Her abuse of the English language is such that I understand only every other sentence." She smiled.  
  
When she had first walked into the Sunnydale High library and had turned to see Rupert Giles standing before her, she had thought to herself that he was prime crush material. A kind of shy-cute, and what a smile, and...sigh English. Then he'd brought out that damn book and everything changed. He was a Watcher. Now her eyes added 40 extra years to the 40 he had already earned. Mentally, she dressed him in tweed down to his socks and boxer shorts. She saw him as one of the nameless, cowardly, weak, old men sending her out to face monsters every night until she finally lost. And she was not going to get attached. She would never make that mistake again.  
  
Damn him for caring about her and making her care in return. Damn him for showing her he was brave and trustworthy. Damn him for being more than his books and his duty. Damn him for saving her life.  
  
Buffy skipped ahead a few weeks in the journal. "Angel has promised me the Codex. I must admit, I was almost giddy at the thought of being able to hold that most valuable volume in my hands. But, beyond that, it could mean so much in protecting my Slayer. To forewarn her rather than having to figure out the problem once the horrors have started. What an asset! As to Angel, he doesn't want to see Buffy. He's trying to protect her, to save her from the conflict her feelings for him cause with her sacred duty. But, I know he loves her. He'd never hurt her, which saves me from having to stake him. I'm honoring his request to tell Buffy nothing of our meetings. Loath as I am to keep secrets from the girl, I think their separation is probably for the best."  
  
She thought back with a smile. Buffy had thought her life was so hard then, watching Cordelia try on her May Queen dress with a wistful nostalgia not many 16-year-olds could know. Now she realized the true difference between the adult she'd become and the child she'd been then, just two short years ago. The child felt sorry for herself, for the things she had lost. She hadn't appreciated just how hard things could really be. There was always a lower level to descend to. The adult had learned through the brutality of experience that you took the special small moments, a look, a touch, a kind word, a smile, where you could get them. They may not be there tomorrow. It took only seconds for your life to be sent spiraling into new frightening directions, and you could never go back the way you came.  
  
Buffy flipped a few more pages and then stopped with a shaking hand when she noticed the date. Two days before the Spring Fling Dance her sophomore year. Two days before she had died. "I have made many adjustments to my intended technique since meeting Buffy. I have allowed her to date, and to involve "civilians" in her work. Unorthodox I realize, but I wonder, looking back, if we'd have done as well alone. Mostly, I have tried to let her remain a normal girl as much as possible to protect her sanity and her soul. No other Slayer has held station over a Hellmouth before, had to endure so much, and prevailed. Only Buffy. Only MY Slayer, and I take no small pride in that...in her. Now however, it seems my good intentions have been in vain."  
  
"There was an earthquake tonight, a portent. It happened moments after I found this passage in the Codex: "The Master shall rise and the Slayer shall fall." I wish to God I'd never seen it, wish I could somehow unlearn what it is I know. My heart is breaking and Buffy's heart will stop."   
  
"This has to be an error...somehow. I'm not giving up. I will research all night. I'll call Angel. I'll call up Satan himself if I have to. The passage would have me send Buffy out for the sole purpose of her slaughter. I can't do that. I won't."  
  
Buffy sat the book down and ran to the bathroom, crying. She splashed some cold water on her face, blew her nose and tried to calm down a bit. She checked her watch. Giles was due to be home in two hours. She grabbed a handful of tissues and made her way back out to the couch.  
  
She placed the book in her lap, took a deep breath and opened it to a random passage. This one caught her eye. The first part of it had been scratched out and he had started over again, but just under the harsh black ink lines, she could make out the words, "My poor Buffy." She gulped and read on.  
  
"Events have taken a most tragic turn, for all of us I fear. Buffy, in her need to be with Angel completely, her need to be loved, had relations with the vampire. And this has loosed unforeseen consequences. It has apparently nullified the gypsy curse that restored Angel's soul to him and left the demon in his body unhampered by the man I had come to call friend and ally. And the man Buffy had called lover."  
  
"Despite her heartache, Buffy foiled Angelus' plans and destroyed "The Judge," a very powerful demon. I drove her home tonight, trying to think of something to ease her pain, failing miserably, feeling her frailty in the heavy silence. When we stopped, she spoke so quietly "You must be so disappointed in me." If I get a chance to kill that monster for this, I will. How could I blame her for having that need? Isn't that why I've craved Jenny so? Buffy and I have both been betrayed tonight by those we most sought to love. Even with this knife in my back, I admit I want Jenny still. How could I blame Buffy for that same emotion?"  
  
"My reassurances seemed to break Buffy down even more and she wept. I pulled her to me and held her until she quieted. Today, more than any other day before, I hate this evil business of Watchers and Slayers. I know our place in the world, but that didn't matter as our hearts broke together in that car tonight. She is simply a girl with a sweet soul. She doesn't deserve this trauma. It is so wrong."   
  
As Buffy passed the entries for the night Jenny died and the week and a half following, each day had barely a sentence written in black ink. Some pages had a few lines added obviously at a later date to fill in more detail, written in blue, but the one entry remained conspicuously brief. "Jenny Calendar is dead. Murdered by Angelus. I tried to kill him, and failed. Pathetically."  
  
Buffy curled her knees to her chest, thinking back on that night. He'd hurt so much, tried in earnest to join his Jenny, to leave Buffy to be with her again. She'd felt so much anger, so much guilt. "Please don't leave me. I can't do this alone." Buffy turned more and more pages, finding a section where again the entries were disturbingly brief. This summer. Of course. Nothing for a Watcher to report when he has nothing to watch. Cursory details of his search lined the pages, some snippets of the things her friends had faced in her place, some pages dated and otherwise totally blank.   
  
Buffy closed the book slowly as she was struck by a moment of utter clarity. "Please don't leave me. I can't do this alone." In the weakest, most emotionally bare moment of his life, the moment he had most needed her or anyone, she had selfishly exacted this solemn pledge from him. Being Giles, crying still in her cradling arms, he had given his oath. And after that promise, she insisted on shutting him out and doing things her way, doing them alone, at every opportunity. And after he had endured hours of torture, she left him, continuing his torture beyond that night for three months more. When she'd come back, he'd forgiven her. Showed nothing but his trust and continued loyalty, and she had betrayed that as well.   
  
Buffy sobbed against her arm. He shouldn't have stuck that needle in her arm. He should have jabbed it into her chest to check for a heart. Or maybe into her head to test for a brain. What more could a human do to show their love? She had driven him past the level of physical endurance anyone should experience. She had driven him to the verge of insanity. She alone. And still, he loved her. Why?  
  
The door opened and Rupert Giles entered his apartment, bandages decorating his battered body. Buffy stood slowly, swallowing a lump in her throat as she approached him. She had counted on Willow, Xander, and Cordy even, to help her smooth her countless misdeeds with the man that stood before her. There was nothing they could have ever done, and she understood that now.   
  
Buffy wrapped her arms around his waist, careful not to injure him more than she felt she had already done. To her never-ending surprise, he hugged her back, his head resting against the top of hers. She was the only one who could mend the rips in his heart that she had caused. It was her burden and no matter how long it took, she would do it. She alone. 


	3. Come Together

Come Together  
(Never Tear Us Apart series #3)  
by GylzGirl  
  
  
  
Disc: Characters owned by Joss, WB, Mutant Enemy (Grr, Argh), Kuzui, Fox, etc. Not I. Excerpts taken directly from WTTH, owned by same said, not me people. I call dibs on the actual story.  
Spoilers: Thru Helpless  
Rating: Ooh, um PG I'd say  
Type: Angst? You're soaking in it! (aka, "Aww, I need a hug.")  
Author's Note: This story is the third in a Series. Preceding it were Verge and She Alone. Thanks to Kazza, and Meawan for beta help and pointers.  
Written: 1999  
  
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Buffy tiredly descended Giles' stairs after having tucked her Watcher in. As soon as she had found out the hospital had given Giles pain pills, she called her mother to inform her she would be staying the next few nights at Giles' house. She wasn't about to chance him overdosing, accidentally or otherwise, in his tenuous mental state. Buffy could only imagine what her Mother must have thought of it but she didn't care. The only thing that mattered was repairing this damage between Watcher and Slayer. That was what she wanted more than anything else in the world but she felt like she was about to try to bail out the Titanic with nothing but a child's beach pail.  
  
She pulled on her jacket and quietly exited the apartment. Giles had said that if she insisted on staying to mother him, there could be no interruption in her duties. Which meant patrol. She smiled, remembering him standing with his hands on his hips in an attempt to be stern, to seem as though he were reluctantly humoring her request to look after him. She could tell that he dug the idea. Which meant he was willing...wanting to mend the gap as much as she did, but would he be able? Would he be able to forgive her for things she hadn't forgiven herself for yet?  
  
The cool night breeze played through her hair as she walked the perimeter of the park. She idly fingered the stake in her pocket. 'Come on vampires, come out and play with me. Give me something to kill. Something I'm good at.' She wasn't comfortable spending so much time in her own head, analyzing, thinking. That was what had gotten her into so much trouble in the first place. She acted instinctively, which worked terrific with the undead, not so good with the living. Buffy heard a noise from the bushes and pulled her stake, ready to strike and thankful for the mental respite. She prowled closer, ready to pounce. A sleek gray cat trotted out of the foliage.  
  
She came out of her battle stance, laughed and walked over to the merry-go-round. She sat and spun it slowly with her feet. The cat made its way over and sat staring up at her as she rotated. Buffy smiled down and gathered it into her lap. She needed a plan of attack. She was good at following a plan of attack. The problem being Giles was the real planner. She couldn't exactly go up to him and say "Giles I need some advice. I have to have a serious talk with you but you're too frail to handle it just now and if I put it off much longer, I may cause us even more harm. What do I do?"   
  
Buffy sighed. She hugged the cat briefly against her chest, and then she sat it on the ground. As it slinked off into the night she resumed her rounds, heading toward the cemetery.  
  
After her initial sweep, she sat on the headstone of the grave of Billy Fordham. Buffy looked out across the sea of headstones. Kendra was buried out there too, and Jenny, Jesse, Theresa. Too many others. Sometimes it felt as though she had more dead friends than living ones. And Giles almost joined them. She wasn't being careful with her friends, taking advantage while they lived and mourning when they died, not giving up her emotions to them until they were no longer here to care.  
  
Buffy stood, making her decision. There was no more time to waste. No one had a time guarantee, but to take time for granted on the Hellmouth was beyond stupidity, and Buffy didn't like to feel stupid. She took one last pass through the cemetery and made her way back to Giles' house.  
  
She entered the living room, still lit only by the small desk lamp she'd left on. She hung up her jacket and went upstairs to check on Giles. The sound of his steady breathing filled the darkened loft. He was laying on his side, his back to her, rolled up under the covers on the far side of the bed. Buffy exhaled, a little disappointed, a little relieved and turned to go.  
  
She was two steps down when her ears caught a slight increase in the pace of his breaths. She silently reentered the room, listening intently. It seemed to get faster and faster, then a barely audible whimper, and soon a groan.  
  
Buffy wrapped her arms around her waist and approached. "Giles?" hardly more than a whisper, still afraid to wake him.  
  
"Buffy?" She could tell he wasn't talking to her, even though he called her name. He sounded so scared. She crawled onto the covers and grabbed his shoulder, gently shaking him.  
  
"Giles? Giles wake up. You're having a bad dream."  
  
His hand moved up and grasped her own, tight enough to bruise a normal person. "Giles?" He hadn't awakened, but he didn't seem to be having the nightmare anymore. Now Buffy had a more immediate dilemma. Giles had her hand clutched against his chest. 'Well do you wake him, if you can get him to wake up? Do you gnaw off the arm at your elbow like a bear in a trap?' Buffy sighed and settled in close behind him. She lay her cheek atop his own and let her captivity become an embrace. Letting the steady rhythm of his breathing comfort her, she soon drifted to sleep.  
  
Giles opened his eyes, still a little foggy from the pain medication. He glanced at the clock. It was almost noon. The next thing he noticed was that he wasn't alone. His fingers were interlaced with a much smaller hand than his own. He carefully turned over and saw Buffy sleeping soundly on the pillow beside him.  
  
Giles smiled and brushed the hair back from her face. He quieted his inner voice before it could even get started on the improperness of her sleeping in his bed with him, reminding himself it was perfectly innocent, as Ripper reminded him she was over the age of consent and the day was still young. He folded his crumpled blankets over her to cover her up, unweaved their fingers carefully so as not to disturb her, and made his way to the bathroom.  
  
When he emerged 15 minutes later, freshly showered, shaved and changed into a clean pair of pants, shirt and braces, Buffy was still asleep in the bed, hugging his pillow to her chest. He knew they needed to talk, but she had likely been up most of the night patrolling and worrying about him. He wasn't about to wake her yet. He flexed his arm with a wince. The pain was back.  
  
Giles looked to the bottle of pills on the dresser. No. He didn't need one quite yet. He put one in his pocket for later and headed downstairs. He promised himself, no matter how bad the pain was, he would only use them until the end of the week. As the Watcher, he couldn't afford to risk addiction. No, that's right, he wasn't the Watcher anymore so perhaps it didn't matter. But the kids still needed to have him there fit and strong, didn't they? No, he needed to stop thinking like this. He'd been down this road of self-pity before and it only led to the bottle. "And the emergency room," he added out loud as another flash of pain rioted up his arm.  
  
He went to his kitchen, fixed a cup of tea and brought it into his living room. He sat on the sofa, tried to take a sip and nearly dropped the cup as his arm seized in agony. Giles fished in his pocket for the pain pill and popped it into his mouth, a quick swig of the tea helping to wash it down.  
  
Giles leaned his head against the back of the sofa. He felt as though everything was spiraling out of control and he was helpless to stop it. More so, he wasn't so sure he wanted to. He was tired of trying. He'd tried his whole life and all it had led him to was this. Now, he was just too tired to care, so very tired.  
  
Buffy awoke near 12:30. She rubbed her sleep-heavy eyes with the back of her hand and looked around for Giles. Finding no sign of him in the bedroom, she got to her feet and made her way downstairs.  
  
Giles was sitting on the couch, head leaned back, mouth wide open. The only indication he was sleeping and not dead was the soft snoring coming from his direction. Buffy walked to the sofa and sat next to him. She was watching him, trying to imagine her life at this moment if he had died in this very room the other night. Unconsciously, she grabbed a hold of his hand. She was also waiting for him to wake up so they could talk. She decided to take the initiative.  
  
"Giles?" She said it so quietly she wasn't sure she hadn't just thought it. He remained perfectly still. She cleared her throat. "Giles?" He shifted a little and mumbled. Buffy licked her lips, one more and he would wake up. And they would be talking. And she could finally ask him why things had gone so wrong the other night. And he could tell her it was because she had hurt and disappointed him so much he didn't want to live. She inhaled to say his name. His hand tightened around her own. She gulped, rested her head against his chest and gratefully listened to him breathe.  
  
She had come so close to never hearing that sound again, to never feeling his hand, warm with life, in her own, again. The tears she had willed not to come spilled over anyway. She buried her face against his chest in an unknowing desperation for comfort and wept as quietly as she could manage.  
  
Giles began to feel a wet sensation on his chest and awoke to find Buffy pillowed against him, crying her eyes out. "Buffy?"  
  
She heard him say her name, knew he was awake, tried to stop her tears. It only made her cry harder.   
  
"Buffy?" Her hand let go of his, instead coming to his shirt, grasping a small amount of the material and clinging.   
  
He smoothed her hair with a shaking hand. "Please, what is it? Please please don't cry." He knew if she didn't stop soon, there would be no way for him to fight back his own tears. "Shh, is it something I've done? You have to tell me."  
  
"No. It's me. I'm so sorry."  
  
"What about?"  
  
"EVERYTHING!" She erupted into sobs again. He leaned his head down atop her own, making comforting sounds until she quieted once more. "There I go doing it again."  
  
"Doing what?"  
  
"Taking. Making you have to comfort me when I should be the one comforting you."  
  
"Can't we comfort each other? Isn't that part of a partnership?"  
  
"But you give me so much, and I..."   
  
"You give to me too."  
  
"When?"  
  
"You're staying with me until I can manage without these damn pills."  
  
"Yes but..."  
  
"And you came and kept me company in the hospital."  
  
"BUT I PUT YOU THERE!" She wailed and fell apart, crying so hard that she dissolved into a fit of hiccuping sobs. Giles' subconscious, no doubt assisted by the pain pills he was on, connected the action to Lucy whining for Ricky to let her be in the show. A grin broke out on his face. He could feel a laugh coming and tried to muffle it in her hair, unsuccessfully.  
  
Buffy sat back a minute, blinking back tears. "Are you laughing at me?"  
  
"No," he said, looking toward the door.   
  
"You are! You're laughing at me!"  
  
"No." He turned his head further from her sight.  
  
"Stop it!" He couldn't stop himself now and cracked up. Buffy felt herself smile, even though she was fuming. "I said stop it. It's not funny."  
  
"I'm sorry." He covered up his mouth but would still not look at her.  
  
"I said it's not funny," she burst out laughing even as she said it. Buffy lightly slapped at his uninjured arm. He looked back in her direction. She had a hand over her mouth to try to muffle her giggles. It wasn't working. He reached out and wiped the tears from her cheeks. She embraced him, laughing. He hugged her in return.  
  
"I really am sorry. I think...I think I just needed a really good laugh. I think maybe we both did?"  
  
"I agree." She smiled up at him. "But we still need to talk."  
  
"I agree."  
  
She sighed and looked down, remaining against his chest. "So where do we begin?"  
  
"Well, I don't necessarily feel we have to rehash everything all over again."  
  
She blinked up at him questioningly. "Okay."  
  
"Suffice it to say, y-you hurt me very badly." She gulped. "A-and I know I've hurt you. The important thing is, we go on. We try not to do it anymore, and if we do, we don't let it fester." He cast a pointed glance her direction. "And we don't run away from it either, by bus or by bottle."  
  
Buffy took a deep breath. "Okay, I can handle that."  
  
"And what happened the other night," she felt her chest tighten with his words, "wasn't your fault." She was flooded with relief. "And I didn't purposefully try to hurt myself. I-It just happened. I'm not sure why."  
  
"That worries me."  
  
"I know."  
  
"If you don't know why it happened before..."  
  
"How do I know it won't happen again?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Honestly, I can't be sure."  
  
"Are you worried about the new Watcher?" He didn't answer. "Giles?"  
  
"Should I be?"  
  
"Nope. Not an issue. You're my Watcher. He can have Faith if he wants."  
  
"What if he's cute?"  
  
She grinned up at him. "Why Rupert Giles, are you jealous?"  
  
"I-I didn't mean it like that."  
  
"Doesn't matter. We're the A-Team, a package deal, you jump I jump and various other references you won't get."  
  
He smiled. "Well, I suppose that's a relief."  
  
"So how cute are we talking here?"  
  
"Buffy."  
  
"Joke, kidding."  
  
"I gathered."  
  
"How are you feeling?"  
  
"Actually pretty good. Little achy but better than I have for a long long time." Unconsciously, he squeezed her a little tighter.  
  
"I think maybe it's a good night for a little group bonding?"  
  
"Meaning?"  
  
"I call Will, Oz, and Xander, have them clear the shelves at the local Blockbuster on their way over. We order enough pizza to feed a small third world nation." She looked up and he was smiling brightly. "Feel up to it?"  
  
"I do indeed. Let me go upstairs and change into something a little more pizza oriented." He released her and started up the stairs. "Tell Willow no Titanic again, Xander no Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and Oz no Casablanca."  
  
"Spoil their fun."  
  
"I'm the old guy remember? It's my job." He disappeared into his bedroom. Buffy picked up the phone's handset from its cradle, held it against her chest for a moment, and took a deep breath; just happy to have another boring gang video night with all members accounted for.  
  
The End 


End file.
